Pull Me Under
by jesse2007
Summary: Dean's final day


_This story would't be here if not my talented beta Lsketch42, who found my muse, put it in a bag and shipped it all the way here! Thanks!_

_Lost in the sky__  
Clouds roll by  
And I roll with them  
Arrows fly  
Seas increase  
And then fall again _

This world is spinning around me  
This world is spinning without me  
Every day send future to past  
Every breath leaves me one less to my last

Watch the sparrow falling  
Gives new meaning to it all

If not today nor yet tomorrow  
Then some other day

Before the shade appeared on his doorstep, before he slipped Sammy those sleeping pills and long before their house turned into a pile of ashes – there was a boy and that boy loved to play with his father's pocket knife and go fishing while his mother baked cookies for his return.

He doesn't remember these things now, that fire destroyed much more than walls and furniture.

He still likes knives and though he doesn't go fishing, he likes hunting things and sometimes he gets an unexplainable craving for ginger cookies.

He doesn't think about "before". Nor does he give much thought to the things he kills, even the ones which look pretty human. It's trivial, like holding your hand steady while firing a gun.

John taught him well. How to survive, how to protect his little brother and how not to hesitate when the thing he has to kill looks him straight in the eyes. It's almost an instinct now. Nothing to give much thought to.

He doesn't remember 'Bandit', or the night John told him the dog had rabies or the gunshot that made his ears ring and his eyes shed more tears than he ever thought possible. Sometimes he remembers the soft fur and the wagging of a little overexcited tail but he shakes off that thought and tells Sammy they should have some fun before the next job.

He's not sure whether he's trying to convince Sam, everybody else or maybe himself. Acting normal, acting as though the war around them was the only war he had been fighting. Acting as though there is no deadline and of course he's gonna be there on his brothers next birthday.

Sammy sees behind his smile but even he eventually stops trying to make him deal with the real Dean. He's no longer rolling his eyes or telling him to stop being a jerk. Both of them know very well there is no hope and pretending only brought more pain so they don't speak at all.

"I don't need you to smile for me." He told him two months ago. They just got out of a bar and Dean felt as if his smile would rip his face in a moment or two.

"And I don't need you grieving before I'm even dead!" He didn't mean to shout. Actually he only noticed he did after the words escaped his mouth and fell between them like unexpected and annoying confetti.

Sam didn't say anything and the feeling of acceptance washed over them like cold water. Neither of them said anything on the days that followed, not that there was much to be said anyway.

He doesn't think about death. Death is something he lives with. Like an old and unpleasant neighbor that comes to visit once in a while. He knows its smell; he knows how it feels like to touch a dead and lifeless body; a cold and useless shell that used to contain life and laughter. He watched them die too many times to get emotional .Demons, spirits, monsters, humans. His parents.

He doesn't think about death because the things he's most afraid of are right there in front of him. He doesn't think about death but he thinks about all those who died every day. Missing someone every day, for the rest of his life. Not being able to be there for Sammy… but who was he kidding? If it wasn't for him, Sam wouldn't have died in the first place. He died because Dean was too scared to be alone.

There are days he wishes it would end. The war outside and the war inside his head and suddenly, he remembers his prayers and he finds himself on the foot of his bed, like a little kid from another lifetime. He asks for Sammy to be alright and for his demons to go away and he goes to sleep and he dreams about fire and little boy that won't stop crying over his dead dog.

He wants to tell him that it doesn't matter. That the ticking of the clock is just that and everything will be alright and he will always will be there for him but they spent too much time together for silly lies like that so he slips him few sleeping pills and hopes Sammy won't wake up until morning.

Long before the shade appeared on his doorstep and even before he learned to use his first gun – there was a boy and he loved his brother and his dog and running through wet grass without any shoes on and sometime Dean thinks that little boy was him although he's not really sure because all he can remember is this big fire and the flames that never really went away.


End file.
